


Supernova

by Samantha Quinn (zarabithia)



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-14
Updated: 2006-03-14
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:05:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8090374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zarabithia/pseuds/Samantha%20Quinn
Summary: T'Pol leaves Enterprise. (08/30/2003)





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: Spoilers, 1.05 "Unexpected," 1.17 "Fusion," 1.20 "Oasis," 2.11 "Precious Cargo."  


* * *

"Well, T'Pol, I don't understand it, but it's your decision to make and I respect it."

"Thank you, Captain."

"Are you sure you can't tell me whyâ€”"

"I am certain."

The Captain runs his hands through his hair while he speaks. It is a human trait which I have learned demonstrates frustration. It is fortunate that my Vulcan training enables me to prevent from showing my frustration as easily. Otherwise, the Captain would be able to discern the truth of my leaving. I must not allow that.

"Fine, T'Pol. What co-ordinates should I give to Travis?"

"The Vulcan science ship Intrepid* will rendezvous with us in sixteen point eight-five hours at our present course and direction. The Enterprise will not be adversely affected," I tell him evenly.

"Oh, you're wrong, T'Pol. The Enteprise will be affected. We'll all miss you a great deal."

I can only nod. He cannot know how badly I wish to stay.

"Captain, there is one request I have. I would appreciate if you did not inform the crew right away."

The Captain demonstrates confusion.

"T'Pol, I can't do that. You've made friends here. They'll want to say goodbye."

**Friends. My Commander Tucker.**

I speculate on how the Captain would react if I were to reveal to him that friendship is the reason I am leaving?

"I intend to tell them, Captain. I simply wish to do so myself."

Archer smiles at my statement and I fight down the urge to strike him. How can he find amusement at a situation causing me such pain?

"That's a bit emotional, don't you think, T'Pol?" he asks as he chuckles.

I raise an eyebrow in response. "I have your word, Captain?" I ask again using all of my Vulcan training to control my tone.

Archer continues to look amused, but acquiesces. "I promise I won't tell anyone, T'Pol."

"That is to include Commander Tucker," I say, a fraction more forcefully than I had intended. Genuine surprise is apparent on his face Shaking his head, he states, "No, T'Pol, I won't tell anyone until you give the word. Not even Trip."

**What Hoshi and Trip are doing is perfectly normal.**

"Thank you, Captain. I will see you on the bridge in one point three hours."

* * *

As I make my way to the bridge, I analyze my own apprehension at notifying Commander Tucker of my plans. Indeed, I am quite certain that it was easier to inform Captain Archer.

If Captain Archer had not shown emotion, it would not have concerned me. If Commander Tucker does not show emotion at my leaving, I shall know no greater ache.

It is irrational. Still, I want Commander Tucker to hurt for me the way I long for him. Perhaps if he did, I would have a reason to stay.

I become so enthralled in my own thoughts that I momentarily take leave of my own surroundings. It is for this reason that I bump into Commander Tucker.

"Good morning, Sub-Commander," he greets me. Why does he no longer call me T'Pol? Once he did so without hesitation and without permission. Would he now, even with my permission?

"Good morning, Commander," I reply calmly. "I trust you slept well?" Sleep? Why ask him that? How the Commander sleeps is none of my business. My friend does not look overly surprised as he responds.

"Yeah, slept like a baby."

**Foolish analogy. I am certain a baby would not have been sharing a bed with Ensign Sato.**

"So, what brings ya down to engineering?"

His question causes me confusion. I had been headed towards the bridge. How had I ended up in engineering instead? But a quick survey of our surroundings confirms Commander Tucker's words.

Because this is where I knew I would find him. Where he is, I wish to be also. Although I am uncertain why, I feel compelled to be reassured of his feelings for me, however unequal they may be.

"Commander, may I ask you a question?"

"Sure, but make it kinda quick. My shift starts in a couple minutes."

"How strong is your friendship for me?" 

 

During the two years I have been on The Enterprise, I have had much opportunity to observe humans at close range. I have become quite adept at determining the meaning of their expressions. However, the meaning of the expression of Commander Tucker in response to my question was one I could not discern.

"Whatta ya mean?"

"I believe the question is obvious enough. You consider me a friend, do you not?"

"'Course I do."

"I merely wish to ascertain how intense that friendship is."

The strange look disappears from my Commander's face and is replaced with one I do recognize-fear. No doubt, he has discerned the nature of my feelings for him. I do not wish to leave the ship having lost his friendship. Hastily, I attempt to repair the damage my careless speech has caused.

"I speak of friendship, Commander. That is all. As we have discussed previously, friendship is a difficult concept for a Vulcan to grasp."

Is that look one of disappointment? Surely not. For the Commander to be disappointed, my feelings would need to be reciprocated. They are not. For he loves another.

"Well, Sub-Commander, back home we had a sayin' about people we care about. If we cared about them a lot, we'd say, 'my feelin's for ya are as deep as the ocean; higher than the stars above.' "

He crosses his arms and leans against the corridor wall. I have always appreciated his unique phrases, however, this one leaves me more than slightly perplexed.

"I do not understand. The star portion of your analogy is irrelevant, as we are amongst the stars and thus, they are not above us. The ocean on your planet is approximately .9% sodium chloride and thus inconsumable by most humanoids. Yet, this phrase is supposed to convey feelings of friendship?"

The Commander sighs and runs his hands through his hair, unconsciously mocking the Captain's earlier actions. I have caused him frustration. I reflect that frustration is the emotion he feels most frequently towards me. No doubt, it inhibits his ability to have other emotions for me.

I doubt Ensign Sato causes him frustration.

"Look, Sub-Commander, I really don't have time to go into this right now. Maybe we can talk about it later? Dinner?"

I do not wish to have such a conversation in the presence of the Captain.  
"We will be sharing dinner with the Captain. Perhaps we could have lunch instead," I volunteer.

"Sure...er, I can't. I kinda promised Hoshi..."

"I see. Dinner shall suffice then. And Commander?"

"Yeah?"

"If your friendship is 'as deep as the ocean', why have you increased the usage of the term 'Sub-Commander?'"

A frown appears on my Commander's face and he raises his voice to reply.

"If you are my friend, why don't ya ever call me Trip?"

**What Hoshi and Trip are doing is perfectly normal.**

"I will see you at dinner, Commander Tucker," I reply and turn to leave. Vaguely, I can hear him call my name-T'Pol-but I continue to the turbo lift. Once safely inside, I halt the lift to give myself time to compose myself.  
Mentally, I scold myself for allowing such a lack of control to occur outside the sanctity of my quarters. Yet, I knew of the high probability of such a reaction. Is that not reason enough for me to leave the Enterprise?

Satisfied that I have once again gained control of my emotions, I permit the turbolift to resume its course. As I intertwine my hands, I feel the delicate scarring of tissue on my left palm. Glancing down, I notice the thin green line running perpendicular to my thumb. Illogically, I run my finger over the scar, allowing myself to soak in the memory of the emotions that caused it.

I am jarred from my memory as the turbolift stops. Ensign Sato steps in.

**What Hoshi and Trip are doing...**

No, I will not think of that now.

"Good morning, Sub-Commander," the Ensign greets me cheerfully.

If I were in her place, I am certain I could find a more apt adjective than good.

"Good morning, Ensign," I say, lacing my fingers behind my back. "I trust you slept well?"

She looks at me with surprise. Although she is no more surprised than I am. First Commander Tucker, now Ensign Sato. Surak help me to control myself for the next fifteen hours.

"Y-yes, I slept well," she stutters. Under my gaze, she flushes and glances down at her feet. I watch in interest as her typically porcelain skin tone turns a deep red. Unconsciously, I rub the scar on my palm.

If my Commander Tucker were to cause such emotional turmoil to Ensign Sato, the line on her palm would be red, reflecting the iron that acts as an oxidizing agent in their blood, as opposed to my people's copper.

Other than that discrepancy, human blood and Vulcan blood are remarkably similar. They both share a remarkably higher concentration of liquid in the blood stream than other humanoids. In fact, the percentage of water in human blood is nearly equal to that of their planet's water to land ratio.

**As deep as the ocean. **

As the turbo lift comes to a halt and I step onto the bridge, I hear Captain Archer's greeting and I nod in response. Taking my station, I allow myself to ponder my Commander's frustration earlier.

I must share some of the blame for our confrontation. Pointing out the errors in his judgment-

**Earth's ocean is approximately .9% salt and thus inconsumable by most humanoids** was unnecessary.

In my desire to prod him into admitting feelings he did not have, I made him uncomfortable and worse, provoked anger.

But his analogy was illogical. As a Vulcan, I thrive for logic.

Even if the Commander could reciprocate my feelings-which he does not-I would always be Vulcan. I would always thrive for logic. Although I care deeply for him, could he love that part of me as well? Surely not, as my Vulcan nature causes him only frustration and disdain.

He would only be able to care for me if I gave up my logic and became more human.

More like Ensign Sato.

That is impossible. As dearly as I care for Commander Tucker, I cannot change who I am. Although if I were capable of it...

Glancing over at Ensign Sato, I know it is not possible. I could never be enough like her to make Commander Tucker happy. No more than I could change the oxidizing agent in my blood to iron instead of copper.

**As deep as the ocean...**

Even the Vulcan ocean is different from that of my Commander's planet. Earth's oceans contain a much higher salt content, for example. Vulcan's ocean is contains .7% sodium chloride whereas Earth's oceans average .9%.

The same as their blood.

**and thus inconsumable by most humanoids.**

Including Vulcans.

My Commander has descended upon the bridge. In anguish, I force myself to stop having such thoughts and instead focus on the incessant banter taking place amongst the Captain and the rest of the bridge crew. Vulcan ships do not have such banter. When I first arrived, I found it quite unprofessional.

I shall miss it.

They are speaking of a holiday celebration. Another human eccentricity. Vulcans have very few holidays, whereas humans seem to have one for at least every four of their calendar weeks.

They are discussing Valentine's Day. It is not a celebration I am familiar with.

"Say, T'Pol," Commander Tucker says, with a slight emphasis on my name that only he and I are aware of, "ya got anything like Valentine's Day on Vulcan?"

"I am not certain. What is the purpose of this Day?"

Although my question is directed towards my Commander Tucker, it is Travis Mayweather that answers. "The purpose is to celebrate the person you love," he states.

"And to get lots of free chocolate," Ensign Sato adds, with a giggle.

I arch my eyebrow in response. I fail to understand the connection between chocolate and love, but no doubt Ensign Sato has more experience in the area than I do. I am certain Commander Tucker will provide ample amounts of free chocolate for her this Valentine's Day.

My Commander resumes talking.

"And so, we're trying to convince the Cap'n to let us have a party in the Mess Hall," he explains.

"You object to this holiday, Captain?" It is the only logical reason I can think of for him to object to a party. He has not demonstrated such behavior in the past.

But the Captain is shaking his head. "No, I don't 'object' to Valentine's Day, T'Pol. I do object to the Mess Hall being painted red, though."

I allow my brows to crinkle in confusion.

"Why would you need to paint the Mess Hall red?" I ask, again directing my question to Commander Tucker.

This time Ensign Sato answers.

"Because red is the color of Valentine's Day!" she says, sounded exasperated. As though everyone should know such a common fact.

"Why?" I ask again and I can hear the sigh come from Ensign Sato and see Ensign Mayweather roll his eyes. Commander Tucker, however, answers me.

"Well, cuz red is the color of passion," he says. "It'd be a little silly to have any other color represent Valentine's Day."

Of course. Is red not always the preferable color? Especially over green?

Is it not ironic that the color of Ensign Sato's blood should reflect passion in humans whereas mine reflects only jealousy?

Picking up my PADD, I nod and head towards the turbo lift.

"There are items that demand my attention elsewhere, Captain," I say to Archer. But before I reach the lift, I hear my Commander's voice once again.

"The party's this Friday, T'Pol, if ya'd like to join us."

I pause, and turn only my head in response, keeping my body focused towards the turbolift. "I will be back on Vulcan by that time, Commander. Nonetheless, I wish you luck in planning your celebration. It is fascinating that you associate passion with the color of human blood." Realizing too late that I have over emphasized the word human, I stride quickly to the turbolift, and allow myself to breathe again only once I hear the comforting swish of the turbolift doors. I refuse to allow myself to speculate on the nature of the look on Commander Tucker's face.

* * *

"I'll be fine, Hoshi," I tell the beautiful woman standing in front of me.

"Don't lie to me, Trip Tucker. I'm in on your little secret, remember?" Hoshi scolds me in reply. "Are you sure you don't want some company?" she asks, wrapping her arms seductively around my waist.

"No thanks, darlin'," I reply, stepping out of her embrace.

Hoshi gives me a skeptical glance. "What are you going to do? Sit here and count the hours she has left on the ship?"

"Well, right now we're at nine and a half," I retort, a little nastier than I had intended.

"Fine, fine. I can take a hint, Malcolm," Hoshi replies and stalks out of my quarters. Since when am I in the same league of distaste as Malcolm Reed? Great, now I've pissed off Hoshi. Sadly, I think some part of me should care but I just don't have any energy left to do so.

Yep, that's exactly how I feel. Completely zapped of any energy.

'Sides, if I had let Hoshi stay, that would only remind me of T'Pol. And what I definitely was never going to have the chance to be able to do. Ever.

I have grown to accept the fact that I was never going to have with T'Pol what I really wanted. I accept the fact that she doesn't want me the way I want her.

But I was content with her friendship. Now, she's takin' even that away from me.

**If your friendship is as deep as the ocean, why have you increased the usage of the term "Sub-Commander?"

Where'd that memory come from? And just what the hell was with that whole line of questioning this morning? She has the nerve to question my friendship? At least if I were going to leave the ship, I'd tell her. And not just casually, in front of the rest of the crew, as though she wasn't any more special than the rest of 'em.

I thought about goin' to ask her why she didn't tell me. But what right do I have to do that? None.

Because after all, it turns out she isn't really my friend. That even what I was ready and willin' to settle for, was more than she was willin' to give.

Whoever the hell just rang my door is just gonna have to accept the fact that I'm not in any type of mood for visitors.

**

I am prepared, physically, to depart the vessel. The sparse amount of clothing I brought has been packed along with my personal items. My quarters are efficiently empty.

Except for the book.

The text is the book given to me by Commander Tucker. "Friendship Stories and Quotes". In researching Valentine's Day, I discovered that an exchange of presents frequently accompanies the celebration. Perhaps that is what Ensign Sato referred to when she mentioned chocolate.

Chocolate does produce in humans the same hormones as those that are emitted during intercourse.

Only fitting she shall receive chocolate from my Commander Tucker, is it not?

As I have no chocolate to give, I shall be leaving the book for Commander Tucker. He will not realize the full impact of the realization. Indeed, no one on the ship will.

Being that Vulcans value controlling their emotions, we do not frequently express love verbally. We do, however, share gifts-although on much less frequent occasions than humans. To show one's affection for another, it is appropriate to give back to them the same gift. In other words, "I appreciate you equally."

On Vulcan, it is only appropriate to engage in such an activity with your t'hy'la.

Commander Tucker will not know this. This is fortunate, as I do not share the same affection towards Commander Tucker as he shares for me. I hold a much deeper appreciation.

On Vulcan, it would be scandalous. Here, I can hide behind the guise of friendship.

As I have for the past two years.

To wrap the book, I have salvaged silk material from my most treasured night garment. It is red-the color of human passion, the color of my commander's blood, the color of all that is forbidden to me. The very symbol of all I will leave behind.

The door chimes, breaking my reverie. I am not in the mood for visitors. Still, as I will be leaving in eight point nine hours, it would be considered rude not to greet the caller.

"Come," I say, granting them permission and willing the image of Commander Tucker out of my head.

* * *

"Look, Jon, I really ain't in the mood to talk right now," I start to say but stop when I see the bottle in his hand. "On second thought, come on in."

"So," I continue, as nonchalantly as possible as I rummage in the top desk drawer for a couple of glasses, "what brings you to my quarters this late and what type of poison ya got?"

Jonathan walks over to the desk, working on uncorking the orange and purple bottle. Whatever it is, there's ample supply. Considerin' how crappy this day's been, that's great news.

"Well, the poison is something I picked up on Risa. It's supposed to be some type of Risan whiskey," Jon answers as he begins to pour the grayish liquid.

"Doesn't look too great, Cap'n, but what the hell, I'll try it," I say, downing the drink. It doesn't taste much like whiskey, I notice. It's got a much sweeter taste-almost like an margarita. It's too bad-I could use the burning sensation of some good ole fashioned Earth whiskey. But, hey, beggars and choosers, right?

I notice Jon's not said much since he came in. He's just been givin' me a funny look. It's the same look he gets on the bridge sometimes. When he's tryin' to figure out whether or not to trust our alien encounter of the week. I don't really know why he's lookin' that way at me, but the sooner I get him to spill the beans, the sooner I can get him to leave. And the sooner he leaves, the sooner I can go back to mournin' my shitty life in private.

"So, Jon, ya didn't answer my other question," I say, pouring myself another glass of the Risan whiskey.

He shifts his feet, looking slightly uncomfortable. Hmm. That's the look he gets when we're gettin' ready to argue with Soval.

A Vulcan. T'Pol.

"Well, Jon, out with it already!" I snap, more harshly than I intend. Aw, hell, I'm never gonna be rid of him now.

"I thought you might like to talk," Jon replies, helpin' himself to a place on my bed.

"What about?" I ask, pourin' another glass of the gray stuff. It ain't too bad after all.

"About T'Pol," he responds.

I nearly drop the glass. "NO! I-uh-why would I want to talk about T'Pol?"

He tilts his head to one side-been around Porthos too much, I think-and gives me a smirk. "Come on, Trip. I saw your reaction on the bridge this morning."

"What about it? It was perfectly normal."

He laughs softly. "Oh, really?"

* * *

"What the hell did she mean by the that? That she'll be 'back on Vulcan' by then?" I had yelled, to hell with protocol.

"Just that. We're meeting with a Vulcan ship in about 18 hours. T'Pol is transferring to the Intrepid at that time," my best friend had replied, without any clue that each word was jabbing into my heart.

"Why? What excuse did those bastards give to try to take T'Pol back this time?"

"They didn't, Trip. She's chosen to go back. She wants to go back."

"Well, she can't-you can't let her! You have to make her stay."

"I can't do that, Trip. I can't make her stay. None of us can."

In response, I turned and stormed off the bridge.

* * *

"Yeah, I was naturally upset to be losin' a perfectly fine Vulcan. High Command'll probably sock us with an unbearable one this time," I mutter. **And I pray to God the next one is male. If I have to look at a female Vulcan everyday and it's not T'Pol..."

Jon shook his head. "That isn't true at all, and you know it."

"Oh, it isn't? Ya don't think they'll saddle us with another Vulcan?" I busy myself with pourin' my third glass of the grayish liquid. "Cuz, really, that'd be great. Who needs the uppity Vulcans with their damn superiority complexes. I sure don't," I retort, downing the liquid. Feeling my head swim a bit, I realize I should probably stop. Who ever said I listen to reason? Somewhat shakily, I pour another glass.

"If that's true, then why are you on your fourth glass of that Risan whiskey within the span of fifteen minutes?" Jon asks.

Oh, so he had been keepin' track.

"Well, I figured ya brought it to share. Want some?" I offer. I prob'ly shoulda known that'd make him snap.

"Damn it, Trip! I want to know what's going on. Your private life may be your business, but not when it's affecting my ship." After that nice little ouburst, Jon stands up, and begins to try to wear a whole in the rug with incessant pacin'.

"I'm sorry, Cap'n, I'm not quite followin' ya. How exactly is my private life affecting your precious toy," I reply angrily.

There are times when even your best friend can try your patience. This is one of those times, I realize through my drunken fog. The only question is, who wants to throw the first punch most? Course, neither one of us actually does it.

Still, I can almost hear Jon grittin' his teeth when he replies. "I don't know what's going on between you and T'Pol. But whatever you two have done, it's costing me a damn fine science officer and the best Vulcan liason this ship could hope to have. If I have to loose that officer, I want to know why.*"

"A science officer? That's what you're worried about? Losing a science officer?" Jon looks startled and I realize it probably has somethin' to do with my shoutin'. I prob'ly shouldn't be shoutin' at the Cap'n. Way my luck's runnin', he'll prob'ly have me thrown in the brig. Maybe I'll be thrown off the ship. Stripped of my rank. Sent back to Earth. A complete and utter disgrace to the entire line of Tuckers. Somehow, in light of recent events, that doesn't seem that bad.

"Yes, Trip. That's what I'm worried about," John replies calmly. "Just what are you upset about?"

How can he stand himself when he's being such a smug son-of-a-bitch?

"Fine, ya wanna know so bad? I'll tell ya. I'm loosin' absolutely everything I could possibly care about all wrapped up in one non-emotional, non-caring, non-interested woman who didn't even have the decency to tell me she was leavin' before she was droppin' the bombshell on me this mornin'." Pausing long enough to down another glass of the Risan alcohol, I interrupt Jon as he starts to speak.

"Tripâ€”"

"Oh, no. I'm not done. Ya wanted to hear it all, didn't ya? Well, there's more. See, after T'Pol leaves-goes back to Vulcan-she's gonna find a nice, suitable, logical mate. And they're gonna mate, like good little Vulcans. Meanwhile, I'll be stuck on this," I pause, lookin' for the right word. Tomb? Mausoleum? "this moving memorial. Every place I go, I'll think of her and what might have been and I'll be stuck wonderin' how the hell I could have been so stupid as to fall in love with someone who could never return it. And further, why I ever deluded myself into thinkin' she could!"

At my outburst, Jon's face remains impassive. He doesn't speak for a couple of moments. Oh, how I'd like to slug him. I opt to take it out on the wall instead. When the glass makes contact with the wall, a tiny part of me is satisfied with the crunch. That finally gets a response from the man.

"Feel better?" he asks, laying a friendly hand on my shoulder.

Resisting the urge to shrug off his hand, I can only mutter, "I know it feels."

"How what feels?" he asks, sounding genuinely confused.

"The glass," I whisper.

"Look, Trip, I apologize. It's just after what T'Pol said this morning and then the way you reacted on the bridge, I assumedâ€”"

"Whatta mean? What did T'Pol say?" I interrupt.

Jon looks a bit hesitant, then decides to answer me anyway. Good for him. Otherwise, I suspect Malcolm would've had a damn good reason to throw me in the brig.

"When she came to tell me she was leaving, she made it perfectly clear she wanted to tell you herself. And made me give my word that I wouldn't mention it to you. She was very adamant about it," Jon admits.

"Hmph. Glad she decided to follow through," I grumble sarcastically.

"Well...maybe she was going to and just didn't get the chance before she saw you on the bridge," my friend offers.

Somewhere in my stupor, I recall a bit of a conversation I had with T'Pol earlier.

* * *

"We will be sharing dinner with the Captain. Perhaps we could have lunch instead." "Sure...er, I can't. I kinda promised Hoshi..."

* * *

Was that when T'Pol was going to tell me? Is that what that whole bizarre conversation this mornin' had been about?

And I had sent her away. Told her I was too busy to talk to her.

How did I become such a fool?

Hazily, I realize Jon's still talkin'. I suppose I should pay attention.

"...Valentin's Day on the bridge. She was giving some awfully emotional looks at Hoshi," Jon muses.

I look at him as though he's lost his mind. "To Hoshi?"

He nods. "Yes, to Hoshi. If I didn't know better, I'd say she looked jealous."

"That's ridiculous," I reply, shaking my head. "In order for her to be jealous-which she wouldn't be anyway-she'd have to know what was going onâ€”" Jon shifts his weight again. The man's always played a lousy game of poker.

"You told her?"

"I had to, Trip. As second in command, she needs to know what's going on with the lives of the crew," says my very own personal Judas.

T'Pol knows about Hoshi.

But...that doesn't matter, right? She still doesn't share the same feelin's I do.

"And then there was the whole strange comment about human blood. What exactly was that about?" Jon muses.

I shake my head in frustration. "I don't know, Jon, but if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go find out."

As I turn to leave, Jon grabs my arm. "Trip?"

"What?" I snap in agitation.

"You're awfully drunk. Don't say anything stupid...or that you'll regret later."

"Jon, if I don't go talk to her now, and figure out what the hell is goin' on in that head of hers, I'll regret that for the rest of my life," I respond, tryin' to sound as sober as possible.

Jon gives me the Porthos head tilt again and breaks out in a grin. "Very well, Commander," he says, gesturing towards the door. "Go, if you must."

He's certainly not runnin' on a short supply of smugness tonight, is he? The thought occurs to me that he probably had this whole thing planned ahead of time. "Hmm. Maybe you don't play such a bad game of poker after all," I tell him before ducking out the door and into the corridor.

* * *

I had not anticipated the visitor being Malcolm Reed. It has been my experience that Lieutenant Reed is one of the more distant officers on the ship.  
Typically, he is uncomfortable amongst social gatherings, even while in the company of fellow humans. While he does have friends on board, he insists on maintaining a professional distance. It makes for a most efficient officer. I lament having not kept my own professional distance from my colleagues.  
Especially from my Commander.

"Greetings, Lieutenant Reed. Is there a security predicament that requires my attention?" I inquire of the armory officer.

I notice his nervousness as he replies, "No, Sub-Commander. My visit is for purely...personal reasons," he informs me.

This is most curious. What personal intentions could motivate to seek my attention at this hour?

As I have been thus far unable to sleep, I decide it will be most prudent to hear Lieutenant Reed's reasons.

"Very well, Lieutenant," I reply. "Would you like a cup of tea while you are here? It is my understanding that humans from your section of Earth value the substance as much as Vulcans do," I say, in an effort to be polite, although I would rather he was not in my quarters. For no other reason than I wish to spend the last hours on the Enterprise thinking of my Commander, whom I must begin to forget as soon as I leave the ship.

"Yes, that would be delightful," Reed replies and I make preparations to pour him a cup from the remnants of a pot I had made twenty minutes prior. The water is still at an acceptably warm temperature, as I have kept the kettle on a hotplate.

I had prepared the tea in order to assist me in my meditation. It had not helped.

Handing the cup to the lieutenant, I sit down on my bed and motioned to Reed to assume the chair across from me.

"What 'personal issues' would you like to discuss, Lieutenant?" I inquire after a moment of silence passes between us.

In reply, Reed takes a drink of tea. Surprise becomes evident on his face.  
"This is quite good," he remarks. "Incredible, really. Vulcan and England are so far apart, yet have a common bond in beverages. Although, I suppose it's a lot like Earth's history-China and England are both far away, yet we both have tea as our main beverage."

In what has been a reoccurring event in the past couple of days, I allow myself to indulge in human emotion. This time, I experience great irritation.

Had the lieutenant come to my quarters to discuss the beverage patterns of our home worlds? Surely not.

"I was under the impression, Lieutenant, that the reason for such widespread cultural similarity of England on Earth resulted from years of imperial domination by your home country."

"Yes, but the end result was a delightful hybrid of leaf that made for a great cup of tea." Reed responds.

I do not care for this crewmember as much as I care for my Commander. His emotions and moods are require more effort to decipher. Deciding that he is attempting to be humorous to break the mood, I resist the suddenly strong urge to order him out of my quarters. Although the thought is tempting, I deduce this is due only to my lack of meditation over the past two days.

"I do not believe you came to see me to discuss the historical importance of tea, Lieutenant," I reply steadily.

Reed glances down into his cup and he murmurs softly, "No, I did not."

"Then what does bring you to my quarters, Lieutenant?" I inquire.

When Reed raises his head to reply, I notice for the first time the expression of anger apparent on his facial features. I was not aware of any of any actions that I may have done to upset him. Nonetheless, his anger is directed expressly at me, as evident by his voice's decimal increase.

"How could you do this to him?" Reed demands.

Although I am not as fond of this human as I am of my commander, I have heretofore appreciated his dependable nature. Of all the humans I have served with, Lt. Reed is the most efficient and most logical. Such was my previous belief. However, his actions tonight threaten that perception.

"I do not understand you, Mr. Reed. To whom are you referring?"

"Oh, you know bloody well who I am talking about," he rejoins, jumping out of his seat. He begins pacing, a human concept I still do not entirely understand.

"I'm afraid I do not, Lieutenant. Perhaps it would be prudent for you to enlighten me," I respond.

The lieutenant ceases to pace and turns to look at me. "Certainly, Sub-Commander. I am referring to Commander Tucker."

Clasping my hands tightly together, I acknowledge his accusation only with another question of my own. "What exactly do you believe I am doing to Commander Tucker?"

"Nothing severe. Just breaking his heart," the lieutenant replies. I recognize his literary device as being sarcasm. A complicated part of the English language and one I will not appreciate on this evening.

"The sarcasm is not necessary, Lieutenant Reed. I will not remind you again that I am a senior officer for the next eight point nine hours. I expect to be treated accordingly," I tell the man in front of me, willing myself to maintain control of the emotions threatening to overwhelm me.

And all he has done up to this point is mention my Commander.

"There are some things that transcend the nature of the service*, T'Pol. This is one of them," was the reply.

I arch my eyebrow in response. Up to now, I have always known Lieutenant Reed to be a dedicated officer. I was unaware he believed anything could 'transcend' the nature of service. While I do not understand his accusations, I do realize he must find them of the utmost importance.

Thus, I shall allow him to continue, although doing so will make it more difficult for me to control my emotions.

"Lieutenant, I can appreciate your concerns for Commander Tucker. However, they are unfounded. In order for me to 'break' the Commander's heart, I would need to be in possession of it," I say, pausing to reflect how greatly that indicated how much I desired the Commander. "I am not."

The lieutenant laughs. It is not a typical human laugh. It is accentuated with anger and bitterness. It also is most uncharacteristic of the lieutenant.

"Surely you aren't that daft, T'Pol. Bloody hell, maybe you are. That's great. That makes me feel a great bit less foolish for my own actions," the lieutenant mutters as he resumes pacing.

I find the action of pacing quite disturbing.

"Which actions do you refer to, Lieutenant?" I inquire.

The question does not have the desired effect. Lieutenant Reed continues pacing as he answers.

Shaking his head, the lieutenant whispers softly, "I was too foolish to realize it until she was gone."

She? Were we not previously discussing my Commander?

"Whom do you refer to, Lieutenant?" I press, summoning my Vulcan strength not to express my irritation.

"Hoshi."

What Hoshi and Trip are doing...

Perhaps I have judged Lieutenant Reed too harshly. It is quite possible that he feels something akin to my own turmoil.

"I see. What exactly do my actions towards Commander Tucker affect your feelings towards Ensign Sato?" I ask cautiously. What the Captain revealed to me was relayed in confidence due to my being in second command. I do not believe Commander Tucker and Ensign Sato have made their relationship public knowledge.

Instead of answering my question, the lieutenant walks over to my desk. Noticing my Commander's gift, he picks it up and examines it with the same meticulous gaze that makes him such an efficient amoury officer.

"A present, T'Pol? Who is it for?"

"I do not believe that is any concern of yours, lieutenant."

"It is for Trip, then?"

Are my emotions so transparent? It becomes increasingly fortunate that I am leaving the Enterprise. "Yes, it is. A Valentine's gift."

The lieutenant looks up, gift still in his hand. He is amused. No doubt he is remembering my inappropriate display of emotion yesterday morning on the bridge. He confirms my suspicions by saying, "Speaking of Valentine's Day, you were giving Hoshi some pretty emotional looks this morning, Sub-Commander."

Another new emotion. Shame?

"It was not my intention to give anyone such emotional looks, Lieutenant Reed," I assure him, but he shakes his reply is to chuckle softly.

"Oh, I don't blame you, T'Pol. Jealously isn't an emotion everyone can control. Not even Vulcans."

I arch my eyebrow in response. It is safer than trusting my voice to speak.

"Yes, Sub-Commander, I too am aware of what Hoshi and Trip have been doing."

Is Perfectly Normal.

"I see. And what do my actions have to do with Ensign Sato and Commander Tucker?" In reply to my question, the lieutenant carefully lays down my Commander's gift and leans backwards on my desk, supporting his weight with his hands only.

"Hoshi came to me first. She wanted me. I pulled away," Lieutenant Reed informs me. His fastidious stare has become focused on his boots.

"It was then that she sought the attention of myâ€”" I stop myself just in time. "the attention of Commander Tucker?" I inquire.

"Yes."

"Why did you pull away? I had assumed you desired the Ensign on several prior instances," I admit.

To my surprise, he chuckles again. The laugh slowly turns into a sob and for several minutes he struggles to control himself. As I can appreciate the struggle for control over one's emotions, I allow him that time uninterrupted. When he has controlled himself, he speaks again.

"Because I was a fool. I hid behind regulations, quoted Starfleet standards. But really, that was all bunk. I was frightened. Too afraid to commit to something I wanted so badly. I had been playing it cautious for so long that when my chance came up...I-I was too fearful to take advantage of it," the lieutenant admits.

His admission causes me distress. It should not be disturbing, should it? I did not have such an opportunity with Commander Tucker. I did not reject his advances. I was not afraid. It is unreasonable to find such guilt at Lieutenant Reed's confession.

Yet, insensibly, I do.

He takes my lack of a response as an invitation to continue.

"Hoshi waited for me to continue come around. But she eventually grew tired of waiting on me and realized I wasn't going to give her what she wanted-what she needed. It was only then she chose toâ€”" he falters.

"To be intimate with my Commander Tucker," I manage to whisper. The feeling of sorrow has engulfed my very presence. I do not notice the inclusion of my possessive pronoun until Lieutenant Reed speaks again.

Lieutenant Reed nods. "Your Commander Tucker?" he inquires.

"It matters little, Lieutenant," I respond to his question. "Regardless of the reason Hoshi chose Commander Tucker, he did not have such motives."

He cocks his head in response. "You really don't have any clue about his feelings for you, do you?"

** _As deep as the ocean_ **

"The Commander has expressed nothing further than friendship for me, Lieutenant," I reply indignantly. Surely he does not think I sent away my Commander in the same fashion he sent away Ensign Sato.

I did not.

"He's bloody crazy about you, T'Pol. Didn't you see the look on his face when you told him you were heading back to Vulcan?"

I did. "The Commander was quite silent. He is an emotional man. Indisputably, had he felt any emotional response, he would expressed it verbally," I point out.

Lieutenant Reed gives his first genuine laugh of the evening in reply. "Oh, he gave a verbal response, Sub-Commander. You just left too soon to see it."

"I do not understand."

As Lieutenant Reed relates the events that took place this morning on the bridge, I feel a sudden surge of joyfulness. It is a sensation I have not felt since the Captain asked me for advice on fraternization.

"Commander Tucker expressed a desire for me to stay?" I solicit.

"You could say that," Lieutenant Reed laughs. "He's madly in love with you, Sub-Commander. He's just being cautious...it is one of the few traits he and I share. But take it from an old pro at the agony game-your leaving will break Trip's heart."

"I do not understand. If you knew this...and you also knew that Ensign Sato chose you first and therefore most likely felt a deeper connection for you than with Commander Tucker, why did you not bring your feelings to her attention once you realized their intensity?" I inquire.

"Trip is my closest friend on this ship, Sub-Commander. I did not realize until this morning on the bridge the reason he was with Hoshi. I had believed-just as you have-that Trip has deep feelings for her. I wasn't about to butt in and hurt him, as Hoshi seemed content with him," the lieutenant pauses only a moment before continuing.

"It was that same friendship that brought me here tonight. Although I do not see how it is possible, Trip obviously views Hoshi as only a substitute. His real feelings are for you, as made obvious this morning. If you leave, you'll be doing the same thing to Trip as I did to Hoshi. I do not wish to see that happen to my friend," he finishes. As he is human, he does not try to mask the pain is obvious in his voice.

"I see. Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Lieutenant," I say as Lieutenant Reed turns towards my door. The calm in my voice conceals the conflicting emotions struggling to rise to the surface.

"Good night, Sub-Commander," is the equally professional reply as the lieutenant departs my quarters.

He no sooner departs than I hear a chime notifying me of another visitor. I will send them away. I must have a talk with my Commander immediately.

Rising, I walk to the door and open it. For the first time, I feel gratitude for the ability to feel emotions. If I did not possess the ability to have them, I could not feel the hope that floods through me as I see the form of Commander Tucker standing before me.

* * *

"Good evenin', T'Pol," I greet her cheerfully. "I ain't disturbin' ya, am I?"

"No, Commander. Come in." comes her reply. I don't know what it is, but there's somethin' different about her voice. It sounds...well, it sounds damn emotional. But maybe I'm just imagin' things. After all, I'm quite drunk.

"Ya weren't sleepin', were ya?" I ask her, suddenly feelin' shy under her gaze. Yeah, I don't embarrass easy, but she's staring directly at me and I can't help but feel like she's scrutinizing my every move. Considerin' what I want to say, that's enough to make any man nervous.

"No, I was not. Prior to your arrival, I had been contemplating coming to see you," she tells me.

Comin' to see me? This late at night? In her pajamas. Lascivious thoughts fill my head and I grin, lookin' like a fool, I'm certain.

"How come ya were plannin' on comin' to see me?"

"I could very well ask you why you have opted to come see me," is her reply.  
Well, that's not exactly the reply I was lookin' for. But, what she says is true.

"Have you come to discuss my descision to return to Vulcan?" she asks. Wow, maybe she can see right through me with that look.

"Yes, I did," I manage. "I-T'Pol," Aw, hell, why is this so difficult? I had nerves of steel when I left my quarters. I shoulda brought that Risan whiskey with me.

"What do you wish to ask me, Commander?" she prods.

"Why are you leavin'?" I blurt. Oh, that was great, Trip, real subtle. I bet she's gonna tell me it does not concern me.

* * *

He is concerned with my leaving. Perhaps what Lieutenant Reed said was in fact truthful.

But perhaps he comes only as my friend. Would not a friend be upset that another friend is leaving?

I shall have to watch what I say very carefully. If the Lieutenant was mistaken, I do not wish to lose the friendship of my Commander.

"T'Pol?" he inquires. I realize that I have not answered his question.

Should I? Should I answer it truthfully?

Contrary to popular belief, Vulcans can and do lie, if logic deems it necessary. Perhaps now is one of those times. Although I had been planning on talking to Commander Tucker following my conversation with Lieutenant Reed, I had been uncertain as to the amount of truth to disclose.

I am even more uncertain now that he is here.

"I am leaving the Enterprise, Commander, because very shortly I will be unable to perform all of the tasks required of me as First Officer as efficiently as that position requires," I tell him. A safe and accurate answer. I have not lied to my Commander but I have not disclosed the entire truth. It is not a satisfactory answer to me, and, it becomes apparent, it is not a satisfactory one to Commander Tucker, either.

"Well, why not?" he says with a tone that I have come to learn denotes frustration.

A human emotion I have become quite familiar with.

* * *

She's not givin' me straight answers tonight.

Well, I hope she is ready to, cuz I am not goin' to be satisfied with this vague nonsense. If I have to lose her, I damn well am gonna know why.

"T'Pol? What the hell has gotten into you? What possibly could make you a bad officer?" I demand.

In reply, she crosses to the other side of the room. I follow, determined not to let her get too far away from me. She leans against the wall and stares for a moment out at the stars. She looks so...upset that it's all I can do not to take her in my arms and comfort her.

Whoa, easy there, Trip. Gettin' way ahead of yourself.

"Emotions, Commander Tucker."

"'Scuse me?" I ask, confused.

"You asked what would make me a bad officer. I was replying to that question. Emotions."

Did I hear her correctly? Did the woman who always likes to claim that Vulcans don't have emotions just tell me that she was too emotional to be a good officer? No, that can't be right. "Have ya gone loony, T'Pol? You control your emotions better than anybody I know," I reassure her.

"Not all of them, Commander," comes the quiet reply. I am about to ask her just what the hell that means, when she gestures to the bed. "Have a seat, Commander, and I will tell you a story."

Oh, not another one of these stories. "It ain't gonna be like that yarn ya told me and the Cap'n, is it, T'Pol, because reallyâ€”"

She turns to look at me and the sorrow in that look makes me shut up immediately. In the two years I've known T'Pol, I've never known her to look sad. She does now.

"I assure you, Commander. This is a true story. Unfortunately." She turns back around and resumes looking at the stars. She is quiet for such a long moment that my patience almost can't stand it. But I can't ask her again. Somethin' tells me I gotta hear this.

"Over the past several months, I have developed a rather strong attachment to another member of the Enterprise's crew."

Did T'Pol just say she was attracted to someone? Jealously flares. I want to ask her who it is, but allow her to continue instead.

"I tried to suppress such feelings. I have observed his inter-species relationships before, and have discovered his patterns to be one of serial monogamy in which he frequently exchanges partners. I did not wish to..." her voice falters and I feel my own anger rising.

Whoever this SOB is, I plan to make a personal visit to his quarters later and practice a little exchange of my own. One that involves my fist. How could he hurt T'Pol the way he obviously has?

"did not wish to become one of many. I wished to be..."

"Special?" I supply. T'Pol responds only with a nod.

"T'Pol, look, ya gotta realize, ya are special. Guys like that, well, that's just the way they are. They have a perfectly nice woman, and they aren't content. Always gotta move on to the next conquest. Ya deserve better, T'Pol," I tell her. Ya deserve me. I would never, ever, want anyone else but you. But that wasn't gonna be. Because T'Pol was in love with someone else.

T'Pol is shaking her head. "No, Commander Tucker, you misunderstand. My initial hesitations were incorrect. He was capable of maintaining a long term relationship with one female. In fact, he has been maintaining one such relationship with another female," she corrects.

Not only is he an SOB, but he's a fool, too. Who in their right mind would turn T'Pol away? For another woman.

"Tell me who it is,T'Pol. I'll go give him a good, hard, kick in the ass," I vow. She turns to me then, and raises an eyebrow.

* * *

"Why would you want to cause him bodily harm, Commander?" I ask the one who has been strangely quiet this evening. His quietness has caused me great concern. I judge his emotions by his verbal outbursts and when there are none, it is difficult to determine what he is feeling.

"Well, cuz he hurt ya, number one," he responds. His voice lowers in decimal level, and he continues, "and because he's makin' ya leave."

Again I feel the faint stirrings of hope course through my veins. It is an emotion I am beginning to appreciate.

"You would be unhappy without my presence, Commander?" I ask. It is the closest I have come to asking what his feelings are for me.

The look he gives me is one that is incredulous. "Of course I'll be unhappy, T'Pol!" he exclaims.

An emotional response. That is pleasing. However, it is not emotional enough to warrant Lieutenant Reed's claims nor to risk our friendship. I must determine the reasons for his unhappiness. He could simply be going to miss a friend.

"Why would you be unhappy?"

He sighs, and glances down at his hands. He is apparently quite fascinated with them, as he refuses to meet my stare as he replies.

"I'd be unhappy cuz I have real strong feelings for ya, T'Pol," he says. His voice is so quiet that it is difficult to hear him and I wonder briefly if my own emotional state has allowed me to delude myself into hearing him say what I want him to say.

I must be certain. "Feelings, Commander?"

Again, he is uncharacteristically quiet. I find it to be quite unsettling when my Commander is quiet. It is not keeping with the character traits that I know. The character traits that have forced me to grow fond of him.

I find myself wishing he would become his usual emotional self.

"Yeah, feelings, T'Pol. How do I tell ya this? I've never been good at this. All the women in my life have made the first move and told me how they felt first."

He is standing and I know I should say something. He takes three steps and is standing directly in front of me. Raising his hand to my chin, he tilts my head in order to look into my eyes.

Had I stayed on Vulcan, I would never have known the aesthetic pleasure blue eyes can hold.

I start to talk but he uses his other hand to place his index finger on my lips. My mind reels at the touch. But I know it to be a human gesture which means "be quiet." So I allow my Commander to continue.

"But you're special, T'Pol. Much more special than the rest of 'em...So, I owe you this- to tell you and to come to you, even if you don't return it. I-I care about you a lot, T'Pol. I've been tryin' to settle for friendship, because I figured that's all ya want. And hell, ya care enough about some other man to leave the ship, so I guess I shouldn't tell ya, but...I care about ya, T'Pol. And not just as a friend, either."

He removes his finger from my lips. I find it to be an action I lament.

I attempt to reply, but find it difficult to do so. My Commander's close proximity is making it difficult to function properly. My nasal passages are consumed by his scent, my tactile senses frenzied by the lingering feel of his fingers on my lips.

Not Just As a Friend.

I must tell him how I feel. If I do not, I stand to lose much more than his friendship.

"Commander, I do not wish for you to cause bodily harm to the man I spoke of earlier," I tell him.

He misunderstands my intention and the blood rushes to his facial region, resulting in a flushing of his cheeks. It is a most handsome sight-to see my Commander struggling to control his emotions.

Soon, we both shall allow ourselves to lose control.

"Course not, T'Pol," he murmurs. "I-I guess ya ain't too keen on me hurtin' someone ya love, huh?"

"No, I am not. However, that is not the only reason I do not want you to try to give them a 'kick in the ass.' " I respond.

"Oh? What's the other reason?" he asks. My Commander sounds unhappy.

He is unhappy because he believes I care for some other male. My foolish, foolish Commander.

"I have two. First, I do not believe he hurt me intentionally. Secondly, while I am aware that you are in excellent physical condition, I believe even you would have difficulty in kicking your own posterior region."

My Commander looks up at me quickly. As realization spreads across his features, I feel a sense of foolishness for not having told him earlier.

"T-T'Pol...do ya mean...ya have feelings for me, too?" he questions.

I am uncertain how to verbalize a response. How can I logically tell of the emotional war that has been raging inside since the fateful conversation with Captain Archer? Of the feelings of fondness I could never know for another man? Finding it difficult to articulate my thoughts with words, I decide instead on a more physical response.

I smile. I find it most gratifying to do so.

* * *

Damn. She's smiling.

"Why didn't you ever say anything before?" I ask her, hoping that smile won't go away.

It doesn't.

"I told you, Commander. I did not wish to jeopardize our friendship," she replies.

"And when the Cap'n told ya about Hoshiâ€”" I stop as I see the smile disappear. Well, how about that? Jon was right. She is jealous.

T'Pol is jealous over me. I couldn't be happier if I woke up tomorrow and Enterprise had the capability to go to warp 10.

"You and Ensign Sato...?" she begins to question, but I place my finger across her lips for the second time.

"Nothin' serious, darlin'. She was lonely and so was I. She wanted someone; he didn't want her and I thought I was in the same situation. But every time I touched her, I was thinkin' of you."

"That pleases me, Trip." I can't help but grin even wider at the sound of my nickname. She actually said it. And we ain't standing on any cliffs, either. Neither of us.

"It pleases me that you're pleased, darlin'," I draw gently. Finding that I no longer can resist the urge to touch her, I cup her face with both my hands and delight in those deep brown eyes. Nothin' more beautiful in the world. Using my palms to support her chin, I allow my thumb and index finger to caress her cheek.

Touchin' my T'Pol. After so much wantin' and waitin'. I never want to stop. I trail my index finger along her bottom lip, and she opens her mouth partially, allowing a soft moan to escape her lips.

I'm touchin' T'Pol and she's moaning. If this turns out to be a dream, I'm gonna jump out the nearest air lock.

"Trip," she says, makin' my name sound like the most beautiful sound in the English language, "I was under the impression that humans used lip to lip contact, not finger to mouth contact. Thus, while I appreciate your touch, I would appreciate it more if you would familiarize me with the lip to lip custom."

She just asked me to kiss her. Even in my wildest fantasies, this never happened.

"I'll be happy to oblige ya, darlin'," I murmur, leaning down to touch her lips to mine. As our mouths touch, T'Pol's hands reach up and wrap themselves around my head, forcing me to deepen the kiss.

I'm happy to follow her lead.

When she allows us to come up for air, she begins to caress my face, copying the movements I had done moments ago.

I hadn't ever thought a Vulcan's touch could be so...delicate.

"Trip," she practically moans, "you are a most handsome structure of a man. I find your physical presence very...stimulating."

"Yes, I seem to recall ya saying something about noticin' I'm in good shape. I gotta say, I find you just as stimulatin'. Hell, probably more so," I admit, as I lean forward to kiss the lower tip of her left ear. Someone once told me ears are an erogenous zone with Vulcans. By the way T'Pol reacted, I'd say they are right.

After a moan more intense than any woman's ever made in my presence, T'Pol whispers huskily-yep, T'Pol, my beautiful, stoic Vulcan whispers huskily- "I should like to see just how fit your body really is." She tugs at the zipper on my uniform. "All of it," she adds.

Well, it ain't gentlemanly to deny a lady's request, now is it?

With purely chivalrous thoughts in mind, I struggle out of my clothes and help T'Pol out of hers. I then guide her to the bed in a gentlemanly like fashion.

* * *

Three point five minutes after Trip and I have copulated, I remain in close proximity, with his arms still wrapped tightly around my waist.

I recall how unpleasant I found the smell of humans to be when I came aboard. However, I now relish the scent of the human lying next to me, and I reflect that his post-coitus scent is even more appealing.

"Ya know, darlin', I don't know if I'm ever gonna get used to the idea of you smilin' like that," his voice interrupts my thoughts.

Had I smiled? I am not aware of doing so. Still, my Trip will not lie to me. I know this. It is somewhat disconcerting to know that I can lose my control in his presence without even realizing it.

"I will smile for you, my Trip," I whisper. "And I will smile often."

"I take that to mean ya've given up on this foolish notion of leavin' the Enterprise?" he asks.

"I could never leave you, my Trip," I reply. I do not anticipate the ease of telling the Intrepid that I have changed my mind. But I will not leave this man.

"I like it when ya call me 'my Trip,'" he says, taking my hand in his. Gently, he runs his index and middle fingers over my corresponding appendages, as I showed him during our time of copulation. The Vulcan equivalent of a kiss.

I can say nothing in response. He is my Trip. Not Ensign Sato's. Nor anyone else's. He is mine.

My Trip is takes my lack of a reply to ask a question. It is to be expected. He is quite a vocal human.

I appreciate his vocalization.

"T'Pol, what did you mean about me bein' a 'serial monogamist?' I ain't had that many relationships, ya know."

I tilt my head upward so that I may once again look into those very un-Vulcan blue eyes.

"Ah'Len, Lianna, Kaitanna." I reply.

My Trip chuckles. "Ah, I knew somebody was jealous. Especially with Lianna. Ya never needed to be, darlin'. I never wanted any of 'em the way I want you."

I am about to respond when I hear Archer's voice over the comm. link. "Archer to T'Pol."

My Trip grumbles an expletive, but I raise and walk over to the comm. "T'Pol here."

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Sub-Commander," the Captain says, sounding oddly sincerely. "But we've been contacted by an alien race called the Thunterians and they've requested help rescuing several of their crewman. Doing so requires taking a shuttle down to the surface of their planet. I wouldn't ask you to go, Sub-Commander, but you are our science officerâ€”"

"And it is only appropriate. I understand, Captain, and I will be on the bridge momentarily."

"Thanks, T'Pol. Archer out."

"Ya know, T'Pol, ya really shouldn't walk around naked like that. Makes it hard for me to control myself," my Trip tells me as I reach for my uniform.

"As I recall, my Trip, you've always had difficulty controlling yourself, whether I am naked or not. Further, as we have just completed the act of copulation, I did not anticipate your needing to replicate the act so soon." I reply.

He smiles at me and I ponder the fact that no other human smile is quite as exhilarating. Considering the response it evokes from me, it is beneficial that it has no duplicate.

"Well, someone once told me that Vulcans have twice the stamina of humans. I'm just tryin' to keep up with ya."

"I imagine that was Kov. He relayed that you had been quite interested in Vulcan sexual habits." I smile again at the look of surprise on my Trip's face. "But you should relax, my Trip. From what I have seen, you need not worry about your stamina being inferior to a Vulcan male."

My Trip elicits a small laugh. "Ya ain't bad yourself, kid."

"I must go now, th'y'la," I tell him, zipping up my uniform. I walk over to the bed and kiss him goodbye on the lips. He responds with the Vulcan equivalent.

"I expect ya to tell me what that means when ya get back, Polly," he tells me.  
I nod. "I will. And we will also discuss your disturbing penchant for nicknames, my Trip."

His laughter accompanies me out into the corridor.

I pass several crewmen on my way to the turbo lift and am disturbed to see them giving me looks of alarm. As I get board the turbo lift, I am greeted by Ensign Sato. She too looks surprised to see me.

"Is there a problem, Ensign?" I ask the woman who never held the love of my Trip.

"N-no, Sub-Commander. It's just, well, we don't usually get the privilege of seeing you smile," she tells me.

That man shall be my undoing. His actions have caused me to express emotion in public. I shall have to increase my mediation to counteract his affects on me. It is a small sacrifice to pay for what I shall receive in return.

"It has been an extraordinary evening, Ensign," is all I tell her. Still, the Ensign is quite bright.

"Well, good for Trip. It's about time," she says. There is no malice in her voice and my thoughts drift back to my conversation with Lieutenant Reed.

About time is a human statement which I have translated to relate to an activity which one has longed for over an extended period. It usually insinuates that the object desired was one that provoked great longing among the individual. A longing which is eliminated when the individual achieved the said object of desire. The change in circumstance unfailingly results in extreme happiness among the individual.

"Yes, Ensign," I tell the woman beside me. "It's about time indeed."


End file.
